In It Together
by LibbyKate
Summary: A one-shot about what I think should have happened after Santana and Lauren's fight at the lockers. Rated T for language. Let me know what you  think!


**So here's another story! Let me know what you think! (And if you guys could take a peek at my other stories and review that would be brilliant!)**

**Manda- this is for you as always. Hope you like it! Don't know what I'd do without you sometimes- your friendship means so much to me, I hope you know that.**

**Enjoy!**

**Libby xx  
**

Santana fingers the heart around her neck as she relives what happened. It wasn't supposed to be like this.

She can't remember feeling quite this alone before. She can change for him; she wants to change for him. And she kinda hates herself being so fucking pathetic.

_She barely registers his dismissal before Lauren slams her into the lockers._

_The cold metal bites into her skin and the eyes of everyone in the school makes her cheeks burn. She can live with the bruises; she thinks she can forget their stares. But its nothing compared to the devastation she feels when he just looks away. She can't see anything but his face, and then wishes she hadn't. She's breaking, she can't breathe and the pain in her body can't compare with the pain of her heart shattering into a thousand pieces._

_And he just watches her go._

_Puck can still see the shock in those beautiful chocolate eyes as Lauren threw Santana around like a rag doll. He's used to seeing the Latina fired up (and hey, isn't he the cause of it most of the time?). But he's not used to seeing her come off second best, and he winces when he sees her being thrown onto the floor. Santana's tiny, and Lauren is not. He thinks it's almost cruel, like putting a bear up against a bunny rabbit. He hears her scream and it's like a knife through his heart._

He should have been there for her; he could have been there for her. She needed him to be there for her. And he fucking turned his back on her.

He's lying next to_ her_, and he can't get what happened out of his head. He wishes he was anywhere but here, he's spent this whole time wishing he was with her instead.

And he's never felt so alone.

_

* * *

_

He's standing at the door and she wants to punch him, she wants to kiss him, wants to hurt him, longs to touch him.

"I'm sorry"

If she wasn't so heartbroken she probably would have laughed. Puck doesn't apologise, and Santana's not the grovelling type.

"Save it Puckerman" She can't do this, not now, not when she's using every ounce of her strength to make it look like she doesn't care.

Puck is still standing there, arms folded, eyes stormy. He knows her. He can see when she's lying. When she's hurting.

"San, I should have stopped it ok? I…it killed me watching her toss you around like a fucking stuffed toy"

"Why didn't you?" The icy tone of her voice is betrayed by the tears sparkling in her eyes. She doesn't quite know why she's crying, she's been hurt before, and isn't she meant to be the tough one?

Puck doesn't know what to say, isn't quite sure how to take the pain away when he knows it's his fault that she's like this. He knows he's hurt her, knows he's broken her, and isn't he the one whose supposed to protect her?

And all of a sudden the regret, the disappointment and the hurt comes streaming down her cheeks, as the tears create glittered tracks down her beautiful face.

Puck moves inside, taking a step towards her. He's going to fix this, he needs to fix this. He hates seeing her like this, he hates himself for doing this to her. He stands in front of her, holds her face in his hands. He knows a kiss won't make it go away but he does it anyway. He kisses her eyelashes, kisses her damp cheeks, kisses her full on the mouth. He's desperate for her to see what she means to him.

She kisses him back. Kisses his eyes, kisses his face, kisses him full on the mouth. She caresses his mohawk, tightening her grip in his hair, not wanting to let go and not wanting to ruin the moment. But she has to know.

She pulls away from him and looks at him from under her eyelashes, her voice tiny and scarlet staining her cheeks.

"Why Puck? Why her?"

He tightens his hold on her, reminding her that he's still got his arms wrapped around her. He can't quite believe he's been so stupid, wonders what he was thinking.

"I made a mistake. I was mad. I wanted to make you jealous."

"Well it fucking worked Puckerman. I was jealous enough to get into a fight with the rhino. And she fucking kicked my ass! I think I may have cracked a rib."

Puck knows Santana is pretending it doesn't matter, that she thinks joking will make it all ok. But he can see in her eyes (he's always been good at reading her eyes, he can't help it if they are so fucking adorable. All chocolate and puppy dogs and shit) that it's hurt her so much more than what she's letting on.

"Where?" he asks, lifting up her shirt to expose the caramel skin underneath.

"Here?" he asks, kissing her softly on her side.

"What about here?" he kisses her just below her sternum. She's squirming (the bastard knows she's ticklish), and trying not to laugh.

"Come to think of it, you could have broken your collar bone. Or your ear…" More tender kisses, this time on her shoulder, and in that spot behind her ear only he knows about. She just about melts into him, she can't help it. Puck's always been her weakness, especially when he's being all romantic and shit.

Santana rolls her eyes, but she's smiling.

"You are such a fucking over-achiever Puck."

He gently pulls down her top. "Forgiven?" he asks, His expression changes, his eyes go misty, and all at once he's looking more sorry and remorseful than Santana has ever seen him. He's all shy and puppy-eyed, and Santana wonders if their kids will look at her that way when they've done something wrong. If they do, she thinks, she's totally screwed.

And that does it. She knows they screw up, she knows that they fight and break up more than the characters on a bad daytime soap. But they always come back to each other in the end, and she's known since forever that she and Puck are it.

He sees it in her eyes. Sees her thinking about the house, the kids, the fucking dog. He can see it too, and as much as it scares him sometimes he knows that that's how it was always going to be, right from the time they were six and her proposed in the sand pit with a ring he got out of a cereal box. And she's the only one he can imagine that with. Not Quinn, not Lauren. Her. It's always been her.

"Forgiven" she says. As hard as she tries, she can't stay mad at him long. It's something about the mowhawk, his eyes, the way he can show her she's still his with a single touch, a single kiss. And besides, the make up sex is always mind-blowing (not that she'd ever tell him that). But it's not just about the sex, and they both know it, even if everyone thinks differently. They know they love each other, and that's enough for them.

"So dinner at Breadstix? I made a reservation. I'll even bring a wheelbarrow" He can't stay away from her for too long (and to be honest, he can't believe he's tried). It's got something to do with her eyes, the way she sings, the way she can make him feel like they are the only two people in the world.

She laughs and hugs him. He kisses her forehead, playing with the heart on her chest (while her real one skips a beat).

And just like that, they know they are going to be ok. They're in it together. Like always.


End file.
